


Exposure

by Just_Another_Day



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Blindfolds, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Sexual Abuse, M/M, POV Laurent (Captive Prince), Post-Canon, Trauma, implied/referenced past sexual assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 14:04:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16306604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_Another_Day/pseuds/Just_Another_Day
Summary: "Are you sure about this?""Yes. Do it."





	Exposure

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not currently in a very good mental state, so you get this thing rather than updates on my WIPs, sorry. This features some reactions to past trauma and something along the lines of self-administered flooding to try to deal with it (probably not the best idea, but I guess that's Laurent's call, which is rather the point). Trigger warnings are in the tags. If you came here thinking there might be hot smut because of the rating, you're pretty much in the wrong place. Also, I always kind of figured that Laurent's shirt didn't get unlaced by Govart just stabbing and beating him up in that hour they were in the cell in Fortaine together, so this very briefly alludes to that.

"Are you sure about this?"

Even putting everything else aside, it means putting himself at a disadvantage. At someone else's mercy. But he knows he's absolutely safe to do so here in these rooms, and with this man in particular. Though that kind of logic doesn't necessarily enter the equation at those times when Laurent forgets that the man currently hovering over him is Damen, who would never intentionally hurt him, rather than some shadow from a dark memory.

That's why he must do this. He used to close his eyes and try to pretend because it was worse when he could see exactly who was with him. Now Laurent tends to be fine as long as he can use the sight of Damen as a frequent reminder, but sometimes when that point of reference is lost to him – when he can't immediately see who exactly is pressing against his skin, surrounding him, pushing him down – he can lose track of the truth of where he is and either lash out or completely shut down before he can get a grip on himself. He can't keep getting spooked just because Damen is behind him, or because Laurent's face is pressed into a pillow, or his hair is hanging in his eyes, or the candle sizzles out. He hates how much it worries Damen when Laurent instinctively shoves him away, scrambling, until he can calm himself enough to confirm who's actually in bed with him, touching him. Laurent can't help but think that he shouldn't need to see Damen to remember that it's him. It should be obvious in every way. But Laurent knows by now that it isn't that simple for him in the heat of the moment. 

He has to fully confront this weakness if he hopes to eventually train himself to overcome it.

"Yes. Do it."

Damen disappears from Laurent's field of vision, replaced by a large swathe of multi-layered silk. Laurent can still perceive a faint glow of candlelight through the layers of material so that he isn't left feeling entirely blinded, but otherwise the world seems to be made up of no more than vague outlines, unidentifiable. Fingers not his own tie the strip of folded silk in place firmly around Laurent's head. Paradoxically, Laurent feels even more naked now that he's wearing this one bit of cloth than he did when he was entirely bare. He swallows hard against the sudden lump in his throat.

Laurent carefully doesn't outwardly show any signs of his reaction when he feels the first touch of unseen hands sliding from the now-secured blindfold down the length of his back. He doesn't even shiver, though that level of control is hard won. The lack of visible reaction doesn't mean that he doesn't still feel the beginnings of panic clawing at his skin. It shouldn't have such a visceral effect on him, but it does. The hands pull Laurent forward, right up against a warm body. He _knows_ it's Damen, logically speaking, but Laurent can't deny his inexorable drive to immediately rip the obstruction away from his eyes so that he can see for himself the evidence that it's Damen's concerned brown eyes looking down on him and not… something else. Someone else.

There are other ways to reassure himself without having to give in to the pressing and irrational need to see, Laurent reminds himself. That's half the point of this. He makes himself fall slack against the other man's chest and breathes in deeply. This is Damen's scent tickling at his nose, untouched by expensive Veretian perfumes that remind Laurent of aging greed, and cleaner and more appealing by far than the mixture of sweat and damp dirt he recalls from the cell in Fortaine. Those calluses correspond to a classic Akielon sword handle, not a Veretian design. Those hands are too gentle to be anyone else's but Damen's as well; holding him, yes, but certainly not keeping him in place in any real way. Laurent could break away without having to exert himself in the slightest. Those hands would fall aside willingly at the first sign that Laurent didn't want them on him. That's never been true with anyone else who's laid hands on him this way. Only Damen.

"It's me. Just me," Damen assures him, in line with Laurent's thoughts. "We don't have to do anything more than just this if you don't want. And we can stop anytime you want." The tone is soothing, as is Damen's hand that's now rubbing over Laurent's back, not entirely dissimilar from how Auguste would sometimes comfort Laurent when he woke from bad dreams during childhood. Laurent lets the tense air ease from his lungs in a shuddering sigh, like poison being leeched away from inside him. 

In the end, it isn't Damen's verbal assurance that fully calms him. It's not even the sound of Damen's voice. It's the cold brush against Laurent's shoulder blade close to where Damen's palm is resting, a reminder of the twin to the gold looping around Laurent's own wrist. It both bolsters Laurent and grounds him. Damen's cuff, he reminds himself, has become half of a joint declaration to each other and to the world that they are equals. Any element of control that Laurent is giving up now is by choice, a willing gift, not something that's being taken from him. He can take the blindfold off at any time if he wants. He can say 'no'. 

He won't, though. He has to try this.

Laurent reaches out blindly until his palm is pressed against the side of Damen's head. He directs Damen's face to Laurent's neck. Damen takes the silent instruction without complaint, lightly pressing his lips to the skin at first, then replacing that with long sucking kisses that will probably leave marks on Laurent's pale throat. Laurent's breath comes in short bursts. He lets his other hand drift down between them, following the plains of Damen's muscles downwards, identifying the way by touch. He finds that Damen is showing significant interest already. He obviously wants this to progress, despite his earlier words.

Laurent nudges at Damen, making him roll slowly onto his back. Damen's lips fall away from Laurent, but Laurent moves with him so that he never loses his grip on Damen's cock. So he knows just where to direct his mouth when he slides down Damen's body, straddling Damen's shins. He's on top. He's the one in control here, despite the blindfold, Laurent reminds himself. This isn't the same as being pushed to his knees.

"Laurent," Damen says, a censure. Laurent understands what he means to say without needing to hear the actual words that would follow. They both know that this is the hardest thing for Laurent to do even when he can look up and see that it's Damen he's swirling his tongue over. Damen likely thinks that Laurent should tread more carefully; to work up to something like this slowly over time rather than diving straight in headfirst. But Laurent has promised himself that he'll confront his problems directly. 

Damen's cock traces just above Laurent's jaw, leaving a thin wet trail in its wake. Laurent can feel that Damen's not quite at the absolute height of hardness, but it will only take moments to coax him the rest of the way. Laurent breathes through his nose for a long moment, working himself up to parting his lips. 

"Talk to me," Laurent orders. 

"You're doing so well," Damen says, the words rushing out of him like he's been just waiting for permission to utter them. "And you look so damn beautiful even when I can't see your eyes. I don't know what I've done to deserve you."

Laurent feels the heat in his cheeks branch out, doubtless visible around the edges of the blindfold.

Damen's words thankfully don't cease as Laurent finally takes the tip of his cock into his mouth. It's the continuous low hum of Damen's voice as much as the praise itself that make it bearable to continue even without being able to look up and meet Damen's eyes. They're the right kind of compliments. Damen has learned the hard way to stay away from certain words like 'sweet' or 'pretty', which usually have the opposite effect than he intends. It helps when Damen's words eventually lapse into Akielon. That makes it even simpler to remember that he's the one talking. Once that language would have seemed like a stabbing reminder that Laurent is betraying himself, his family and his country by doing this, but Akielos is Laurent's country now almost as much as Vere and Acquitart are. He has grown to enjoy the rumble of Akielon words carried on a hot breeze. And he has long since accepted Damen himself for exactly who and what he is. Besides, translating the meaning of the foreign words gives Laurent's mind something active to do, keeping it from straying unbidden to a different place and time. 

Damen's gentle fingers trace through his hair and over his face. No one else would touch him this way. No one else would trail their finger feather-light over the cloth directly underneath Laurent's lower eyelid, not-so-covertly checking for dampness, knowing Laurent well enough to be aware that he would probably push through with this even if he were distressed to the point of tears, and not willing to just sit back and let Laurent hurt himself like that without a fight. But the blindfold is dry. Laurent has himself under control for now. It feels like he has Damen under Laurent's control as well if the strength of Damen's reactions to every purposeful lick and change of pace is any indication.

Sometimes at night, when they have hours at their disposal, Damen holds himself back from the edge for as long as he possibly can to prove a point. Tonight, though, he seems willing to sacrifice the right to brag about his stamina in favour of finishing before Laurent can get lost in the repetition and finally lose his current awareness. The soft tug of his fingers in the hair at Laurent's nape serve as a warning. The twitching of his cock against Laurent's tongue does the same. Laurent is prepared. He sucks Damen deep and swallows. This too is a choice. It never was before, but it is now with Damen, who would never call Laurent a failure for pulling away and 'making a mess'.

Damen doesn't reach for Laurent's cock in turn once his own has started to soften. Even if he hadn't initially understood that that isn't at all what Laurent wants tonight, he isn't the one who's blindfolded, so he can surely see that Laurent's cock is more or less quiescent. It probably would have been even without the stress of dealing with near-sightlessness and not being able to look at Damen for reassurance.

Damen's fingers brush over the edge of the blindfold, a question. Laurent nods slightly. Even though the room is dim, he has to blink against the candlelight a few times once the material is removed.

Damen's expression is a little tentative, but still a welcome sight.

"All right?" Damen asks.

"I'm fine." It's mostly true. He's managed to do this without relying on the crutch of his vision and has come out the other side intact. Perhaps next time his initial reactions will be less intense. Or, if not next time, then at least eventually. Laurent can only hope.

Damen waits patiently for Laurent to crawl up the length of his body so that he can settle himself against Damen's side. Then Damen turns to face him so that he can drape his arm and lower leg over Laurent. The loose embrace isn't sexual. It doesn't leave Laurent feeling trapped, and not just because Laurent can see exactly who's holding him now. This sort of quiet affection is so incredibly different from Laurent's previous experiences that there would never be any risk of being pulled into memories of anything but the many hours he and Damen have spent just like this, wrapped up in each other just for the sake of being together, even if Laurent hadn't had his sight fully restored to him. Just the feeling of it would have been enough.

Though it's still nice to be able to watch Damen for a few minutes, and to see his soft smile, before Laurent's eyes tiredly drift shut, his vision lost once again, this time to sleep.


End file.
